Duuuuuuuuude. My hips hurt. And not for any GOOD reason, either. Finally went to the doctor on Monday and was diagnosed with sciatica - a hot-poker pain from my lower back shooting down through my right knee. Add that to the arthritis that every Fleming woman eventually gets in her hips, and I am hopped up an pain relievers that aren't relieving the pain, but making me a little loopy.
Along with the arthritis that every Fleming Woman gets, we made a nifty discovery at this year's Flem Fest. You can tell a Fleming Gal because we will bare at least 2 of the following three distinct characteristics:
1. A chin that is not quite double, but not quite a waddle. More like a baby goiter. Yum!
2. The Fleming nose. My sister has the bony proof of her DNA sitting square in the middle of her face. I have my dad's nose. Not much better, but not nearly as distinct.
3. Funky-ass toes. No other way to describe them briefly. Many of us have second toes that are so much longer than out big toes that custom shoes may, indeed, be in order. What the hell? I didn't realize I needed a "pointer toe." And yet, I have two. So do almost all of my first cousins, apparently.
Which brings us to the fact that these family reunions are actually a necessity. With a family of 9 kids and so many cousins floating around, you need to show up once a year and take a DNA census - to eyeball your kin and make sure you don;t end up dating them later on by accident. Matching 2 sets of Fleming DNA, I am quite sure, would result in the formation of a prehensile tail.
In other news...
I canceled my interview with the Bar Assn. this morning. Part of what was freaking me out is that they have an awful reputation as a place to work. Why was I interviewing at a place where I didn't want to work? Because I felt as if I needed to be going through the motions. Sending out resumes, going to interviews, getting rejected. Yadda Yadda. I DID apply for a position with the Capital Area Humane Society as a program assistant. This is more my speed. The other thing that was freaking me out is that I have no desire to go back to the level of stress of responsibility I had pre-Jack. Yet membership is all I have really excelled at. I am still looking to stay in the NFP world (apparently I just don;t ever want to make good money), but take my search down yet another notch to positions with less responsibility. This doesn't seem to elicit a gag reflex or the need to pass out when I think about it. A step in the right direction, don't you think?